


Way More Than Okay

by delighted



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 19:11:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11675316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delighted/pseuds/delighted
Summary: The boys have maybe a few too many drinks, and, well, that was just inevitable, wasn’t it.





	Way More Than Okay

**Author's Note:**

> Another one that’s a bit fast and not as polished as it could be, but I'd rather write more than edit more, and I’m having fun with them, and I think you are too, so.... here we go again! :-)
> 
> (eta: So, rushing finally got me in trouble, and a few things evidently came across very much not as I'd intended. I've edited it a bit, and hopefully it reads more as I'd intended.)

“Would you please quit looking at me like that, huh?”

Steve gave a little smile, but continued to gaze at Danny in a way most sane people would have called “longingly.” Steve, evidently, called it “just sitting looking at my partner as we’re waiting to interview a suspect.” Danny called it “annoying.”

“Just once, please, could you try to pretend to be a professional?”

The smile faded into a more serious expression, but somehow the look in the eyes changed not at all, which Danny had to admit was impressive.

“I swear, Steven, one of these days you are going to seriously regret the way you look at me.”

That had been a mistake, because now the smile was back, even bigger than before, and the whole expression had intensified and looked something between “mission accomplished” and “challenge accepted.” Dangit.

Fortunately their suspect came in at that point, and if he noticed anything untoward, he’d never have much chance to do anything about it, because it turned out he did know where the body was hidden, and he’d be spending a lot of time sitting in a corner and thinking about what he’d done.

Which Danny sometimes wished he could make Steve do, frankly.

Giving Danny loaded and meaningful looks was something Steve had always enjoyed doing. But things had been getting a little out of hand on that front lately. Partly in the sense that he wasn’t quite so careful about where they were when he gave the looks—in front of witnesses, in team meetings for crying out loud, and in very very public places with lots of people potentially paying attention. It had gotten to the point that no one on the team even joked about it anymore. Partly because that would have just taken up way too much time. Also maybe because it really wasn’t funny anymore. Not that Danny’d ever thought it was funny. But there used to be at least a hint of playfulness to Steve’s possessive gazes. Somehow that had been lost, replaced by something Danny could only call no-longer-playful. To be honest, there was a hint, just a bare hint, of something he might have almost called threatening, if that hadn’t frightened him on some level. If it had occurred to him, he might have realized that it was simply what happened when you took that original, admiring—and yeah, longing—gaze, passed it through seven years worth of not doing anything about it, all the while experiencing the heartbreak, the hurt, the joy, the frustrations, the setbacks, the victories that they’d shared. This is what you got, if only Danny had been able to see that. It was the same longing... it just no longer had anything holding it back.

But Danny didn’t see it that way, probably because he was the one being looked at. What Danny saw was his ever annoying and problematic partner, spending far too much time looking at him, and not nearly enough time looking at things like clues, gun sights, crime scenes, witnesses, and oh, I don’t know, the damn road in front of the car he was hurtling down it like a drunken maniac?

Occasionally, some well-meaning waitress or nurse or bystander would make a sweet comment about what a cute couple they made, and Danny would try, usually in vain, to dissuade her of the notion.

Never could he have imagined the phrase “Oh, we’re just friends” would come to sound so completely empty and void of anything even approaching _convincing_.

At a certain point he had to admit it just didn’t seem plausible.

One night, after a group of giggly college girls had cooed over Danny and his adorable boyfriend, he’d had enough.

Probably he should have picked his time and his place a little better, because both he and Steve had had more than a little to drink themselves by that point. But when Steve had come back to their table from the bar where he’d been ordering them more of the ridiculously vivid over-the-top cocktails that Danny, if he was totally honest about it, associated with being on a date (and not just hanging out with a friend), Danny had hissed at him under his breath.

“Could you just lay off for five minutes?”

Steve blinked at him, seemingly not aware of his meaning.

“Oh, come off it, you know what I’m talking about.”

“No, Danny, I really don’t.”

“You are making it look like we’re here together.”

“Aren’t we?” Steve looked around him. “We sure seem to be.” He gestured to the table. “You’re here, I’m here, we’re here together.”

“Oh, very good, Doctor Seuss. One drink, two drink, red drink, blue drink.” 

“That’s cute, Danny.”

“No, Steve, it’s not.”

Steve actually looked hurt by that for some reason. And Danny felt a slight pang. But he was determined to put an end to this, so he pushed past that.

“Can we please take this outside?”

Which was probably not the best choice of words, to be fair. But Danny’d been drinking these ludicrous drinks with fruit and flowers in them, (which were stupidly strong), and he swore they were being watched (though he hadn’t actually caught anyone at it yet), but he was feeling very exposed, and he just wanted to get away and make things just _pause_ or something.

Steve didn’t seem to mind his tone or his words, he simply smiled, gathered up their drinks, and led the way out to the bar’s lanai, where the sound of the music was softer, and the sound of the surf was louder. Only problem was, it seemed that “outside” was where couples took it when they wanted to... move things along a little. Which maybe explained the giggles he’d thought he’d heard as they’d walked outside.  _Just great_. Well, at least it was quiet, and the fresh air felt nice and was helping his head to clear, and maybe now he’d be able to get through to Steve a little better. He found them the one empty table, which was off on its own, close to the steps down to the beach, nestled amongst some potted palms and hibiscus. If he’d wanted to kiss Steve, it would have been the perfect spot.

And where the fuck had _that_ observation come from?

“You’re right, Danny, this is much nicer,” Steve whispered, as he slid into his seat across from Danny, handing him his drink.

The look seemed different somehow, but Danny was still too startled by his own mind’s betrayal to be able to process that right now, thank you. He took a good long drink from the brightly colored concoction, and maybe that had been dumb, because the only effect it seemed to have was to make him think that the blood red color of Steve’s drink really set his eyes off nicely.

Seriously, what the fuck?

The tables out here were smaller, so they were sitting a lot closer than they had been inside. When Steve scooted even closer, his knees touched Danny’s under the table, and Danny felt the contact reverberate in his whole body. If he hadn’t already been in shock with the thoughts his mind had been providing, he would have been dismayed by his body’s reaction, but as it was, he was beginning to feel a little like he had no control.

And wasn’t that just a little too symbolic? Steve. Danny’s life. Control. We already know how that one goes. Far, far too well.

Danny shook his head, leaned back in his chair. At least the ones out here had backs, so he could lean _away_ from Steve, rather than needing to lean towards him like on the backless barstools inside. Of course, as he did so, his legs slid further forward—and further into Steve, who definitely didn’t miss the increased contact, and pushed back, brining his legs alongside Danny’s, pressing them slightly together in a way that felt not-at-all innocent.

The fact that Danny’s mind supplied “oh, that feels nice” instead of “what the actual fuck, Steven” didn’t bother him as much as he seemed to think it should. He didn’t say anything out loud, but he did make some kind of sound that he maybe would have been embarrassed by, but at this point, frankly, he was a little past that, if only from puzzlement and confusion.

From somewhere the words “just relax and go with it” came to him. It occurred to him briefly that Steve might have actually spoken them, but Danny’s mind was too fuzzy to really be sure.

They soon finished their drinks, and the beach was right there and the moon was full, and Danny definitely needed to walk this one off for a bit, so he stood, and Steve stood, and he stumbled slightly down the stairs, and Steve steadied him, and they started to walk down the beach, and Steve didn’t take his arm away from Danny, and Danny leaned in closer rather than further away because really he kind of needed the support more than he’d realized, and wasn’t this just also great.

There was a group of girls sitting out under the stars down by the water, huddled together, laughing and talking and eating pizza out of the box.

“I could go for some of that,” Danny murmured as they walked by, and when Steve tensed next to him, he quickly clarified: “The pizza. I could go for some pizza.” And then felt himself blush.

Steve pulled him closer. “I’ll take you for pizza, Danny.”

And what the hell was it about those words? Or was it the way he said them? But Danny felt everything shift slightly to the side, and it was like someone had turned a light on, or refocused it in the right direction, and everything that had felt lopsided suddenly made sense. He stopped walking. And he must have been more responsible for their forward motion than he’d realized, because Steve almost stumbled when he did, and they fell into each other even more, and now they were facing each other, and the moonlight on the water had no right to be so fucking romantic, and before he knew it they were kissing, and he had no idea how that happened, and he swore there was whistling and a cheer from somewhere, and Danny knew he was blushing even more and he couldn’t have cared less. He could feel Steve smiling against his lips, but then he dove in, tugging Danny against him, really putting on a performance, and of course, Danny should have known Steve would be a showman in kissing as in everything else, didn’t that just figure, but then he didn’t care at all because, damn Steve was a good kisser, and he really should have known that would be true, and why the hell had they never done this before?

Steve finally pulled back. “Pizza?” He asked, breathless.

“Yeah, food would probably be a good idea at this point,” Danny managed in that surprising-yourself-with-coherence-when-you-didn’t-think-it-was-possible kind of way.

For some reason that made Steve smirk, and he took hold of Danny’s hand and led him back down the beach towards the pizza place. One of the girls gave a sharp whistle as they walked by, and Steve turned and _bowed_ , which earned him cheers and actual fucking applause, and a smack on the head from Danny when he turned back around, which earned _him_ laughter.

“So, this is how this is going to go, huh?”

“What’d you expect, Danny?”

Which really if he’d thought of it, Steve had a point. Steve didn’t exactly excel at the subtle.

He did manage to be mostly well behaved as they sat in the crammed, hole in the wall pizza take out place, although Danny hadn’t ever realized that eating pizza could be so filled with sexual innuendo. Again, not something that should have come as a shock. They put away an extra large pepperoni pizza in probably record time, and decided to follow that up with really big coffees from the place next door, which they took back to the beach and drank, sitting in the sand, leaning up against a palm tree, holding hands.

If he’d been able to separate himself from the immediacy of it all, Danny would probably have called it a textbook perfect date. The thought seeped through enough of his shell of “what the heck is even going on” for him to think, just for a split second, that maybe had Steve planned this?

The idea kind of stuck with him, and after swirling it around for five or so sips of coffee, he dared ask.

Steve looked out over the water and let out a breath as though he was considering the notion. “I don’t think so....” He squeezed Danny’s hand. “But I’ve wanted it for so long, I suppose it was probably in the back of my head. Maybe not more than it always is, but yeah, maybe a little bit more.”

Maybe “a little bit more” was all it took. Maybe that was all it had been. Just that little bit more that pushed them over the edge. Danny wasn’t so sure. Because he was remembering all the intensified looks of late, all those uncomfortable moments waiting to talk to witnesses, waiting for the team to join them, driving to a case. And it occurred to Danny that quite possibly the discomfort hadn’t been because of Steve’s increased intensity, but because of his own decreased resistance. And as he realized that, he had to admit it was possible Steve hadn’t even changed his expressions at all, that it was possible that all of that had been Danny’s own change. And that did something really very funny to his heart, and suddenly, waiting to be sober enough to drive home just wasn’t a valid option, and he pulled out his phone and ordered a cab, and Steve saw what he was doing, and took his coffee from him, and set it down next to his in the sand, and pulled him into a kiss that was a lot more subtle than the first, but also a lot more heated, and filled with desire.

Fortunately, there wasn’t much traffic between the beach and Steve’s place, and before too long, Danny was shoving Steve up against the door inside the house, tugging at his too-tight-shirt, pulling it over his head, and falling against that ridiculous bare chest like it was a glass of water and he had just stumbled out of the desert, and really? _Really, mind? That’s seriously where you go?_ Danny was utterly fucked and he knew it.

Steve seemed to be just as desperate to get Danny divested of his clothing, and it was good that Danny wasn’t too fond of the shirt he’d been wearing, because Steve didn’t seem to understand the concept of buttons, and actually ripped his shirt open, buttons flying and hitting the wall, the floor, and bouncing everywhere like tiny explosives and that was just perfectly fitting, wasn’t it.

Half expecting Steve to pick him up and carry him up the stairs after that little display, Danny kicked his shoes off, and broke away from Steve to run up the stairs, but Steve was faster, and holy shit he could take his clothes off fast, because it seemed like his boots and pants came off somehow at the same time, and right before Danny reached Steve’s bed, a naked Steve grabbed him from behind, lifted him up, and tossed him on the bed, pulling his shorts off as he landed, and then fell on top of him, and  _of fucking course_  sex with Steve would be like a fucking car chase. And probably it was inevitable that their first time would be fast and explosive and utterly mind blowing. But what was even better was that they stayed awake after, gazing, and kissing, and softly caressing, and talking about completely inane things like potato salad and coloring books and clothes shopping (Danny might have made Steve promise to buy him a new shirt—and Steve might have promised to buy him endless shirts if it meant he could rip them off him again), and then when they realized there would be a second time that night, they took their time, and amazed each other with how well they already knew each other’s bodies. And Danny realized that shouldn’t have amazed him at all.

In the morning, when the magic of the night before—the moonlight, the cocktails, the kisses, the explosions—should have seemed faded, and maybe some panic over what-the-hell-have-we-done might have set in, what Danny actually felt instead was that everything finally looked the way it should have. Waking up in Steve’s arms, hearing the sound of the surf outside the window, it didn’t feel odd or weird or strange or frightening.... It felt like something he’d wanted for a very, very long time without realizing that it was even possible. Looking around him, breathing Steve in, he wasn’t altogether sure it _was_ possible.

He turned over in Steve’s arms, to face him.

“Morning,” he whispered, pressing a light kiss to those lips that had last night claimed his like he was a prize. He felt chills up his spine at the contact. Steve was explosive even in softness, and Danny recognized he was beyond saving.

“Mmmm,” Steve replied, hugging Danny tightly to him, as though he wanted to make it abundantly clear that Danny was his, that this was where Danny belonged. And in a way, Danny saw—that bright morning light leaving nothing hidden—he saw that really this was just the next stage of his life with Steve. That it had probably been heading for this all along. Steve had seen him, claimed him, shown the world that he was his, really totally and honestly from the very fucking beginning. For one flash of a moment, the past seven years felt like they’d been one long process of Danny ceasing to struggle against that tide, learning to let himself float, finding himself anchored by his partner time and time again, and finally allowing himself to be reeled in... “caught” seemed like an awful thing to say, and yet somehow it worked. Steve sure seemed to feel he’d finally got him, and clearly was going to demonstrate that he had absolutely zero intention of letting him go.

It was kind of a weird feeling, and Danny wasn’t altogether certain how he felt about it. But then at the same time, there’d never been much of a sense of choice in the matter. Not that Steve swept him away against his will. He might complain, he might grouse, but let’s be honest, Danny liked doing that, and Danny really liked doing that with Steve... I mean, when it comes to it, they had always been perfect for each other exactly because of that. Maybe this really was the inevitable outcome. It almost felt like fate. It almost felt like he’d been holding back from this since the beginning. Maybe that was why everything finally felt right. Because he’d let go and embraced what had been clear from the beginning was the way it was always going to be. And maybe he’d just have to think more about that later, because he was being swept away by an actual embrace right now, and _that_ was going to require all of his attention, thank you very much.

After kissing him soundly for a good ten minutes, Steve leaned back, touched his temple, smiled sweetly and maybe just a little bit smugly.

“You doing okay?” He asked, his solicitousness surprising Danny.

And maybe that was when Danny decided none of it mattered. Being caught, being claimed, giving in, resisting, inevitable or not. Steve absolutely was the person he belonged with, the one who had been there, the one who he knew—as he’d never imagined he could—would always be there. So he could be excused for the tears that fell.

“Yeah, babe. Way more than okay.”

Steve kissed his tears away, then kissed him rather less sweetly and innocently, and things really _were_ way more than okay.


End file.
